


Vol-au-Bon

by everyshootingstar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, GTA AU, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyshootingstar/pseuds/everyshootingstar
Summary: “We could rent out the space there,” Trevor said, pointing out the shop, “Put something there, inconspicuous, plant some people there that no one usually sees.”Ryan, who’d only been paying half attention, perks up when Trevor suggests a shop, “What about a bakery? I’ve had a business before, and no one’s seen my face.”





	Vol-au-Bon

**Author's Note:**

> for the RT writers secret springfairy fic thing! 
> 
> Mae! Hi! I'm excited for you to see this even though I ended up waiting til the day I was supposed to post to actually uhhh finish it. Adulthood be like that I guess. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!!! And that it's not too messy aslfjdfj. My writing style isn't for everyone and I'm trying to make it more user friendly, I promise!!!

“Still can’t believe you opened a bakery, Ryebread,” Gavin says from where he’s perched on one of the many counters in the bakery’s kitchen, “You’ve got a _real_ honest job and all that.” He watches Ryan move around the kitchen, wearing dad jeans, a plain t-shirt and an apron, his hair tied back neatly and under a hair net—and really, if Gavin didn’t know any better, he’d _completely_ believe that Ryan was incapable of hurting a fly.

Ryan turns and levels Gavin with a _look_ , “You’re ridiculous,” he says. “I started this as a cover,” and he did, start the bakery as a way to keep an eye on the edge of the fakes’ territory, but, over the past few months, it’d bloomed into a neutral territory where everyone converged for inter-gang meetings.

“But it’s turned into more than that, hasn’t it?” Gavin asks, a sly grin forming on his face. “You like this. Hiring college kids to give them a fair pay and benefits, all the baking, you’re going soft, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, tossing a handful of flour across the stainless-steel counter top, “I’m not going soft,” Ryan says, “I just believe that college is hard and those going through it deserve a little peace of mind—” he breaks off when Gavin’s smug grin changes into something softer, “Yeah, okay, so before I came here, I had a small bakery in Georgia. It was my pet project that ended up failing.” He focuses on kneading out dough, the words falling from his mouth easily, “But I like doing this and I like giving back when I can.” He purses his lips, “They’re just kids, doing what they can to survive, and I _get_ that. I went to college but a degree in theater won’t get you much if you don’t know the right people, and I didn’t.” He folds the dough over a few times, “Besides. I’m on a murder break.”

The sound of Gavin’s feet hitting the floor echoes in the quiet kitchen over the low hum of the ovens, “Ryan,” he says, sounding serious. “If this is what makes you happy, you know Geoff and even Trevor, they’ll support you no matter what. And far be it from me to make fun of you for finding your happy place.” Gavin’s moved closer now, resting his hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “You’re a pretty decent guy, Rye. Damn good baker, too.”

Ryan’s silent, basks in the peacefulness that’s settled over them, “Thanks,” he says eventually, voice quiet, “And y’know. When you love donuts as much as I do, learning to make them yourself is cheaper in the long run.”

Gavin’s laughter is light and airy, “Right,” he says. “Well, I better go before boi gets up. Thanks for letting me keep you company.”

“Sleep’s never been kind to either of us,” Ryan says in return, “Feel free to drop by anytime. Come by later when we’re open. Coffee and pastries on the house for you and Michael.”

Gavin makes a happy sort of noise, “You really know how to spoil a guy,” he says, and then, with one last squeeze of his shoulder, he’s gone, the door locking silently behind him, leaving Ryan alone.

==

The location had been Geoff’s idea, right on the edge of their territory, in a small shop sandwiched between an antiques place and a bookstore.

“We need something here to keep an eye on things,” He’d said during their weekly meeting, “Smaller groups are getting funny ideas about coming onto our territory; we need a good cover.”

“We could rent out the space there,” Trevor said, pointing out the shop, “Put something there, inconspicuous, plant some people there that no one usually sees.”

Ryan, who’d only been paying half attention, perks up when Trevor suggests a shop, “What about a bakery? I’ve had a business before, _and_ no one’s seen my face.”

Trevor looks over at Ryan, studies him for a moment before shrugging, “Sure,” he says. “We’ll have to work out who to place from the support crew in there—split up shifts and things like that.”

“No,” Ryan says. “You and Geoff worry about getting the place bought and set up, I’ll start the application process and interview people when you’re done with the shop. It’ll be neutral territory and if we want to keep the cover, I can’t have _anyone_ tied with the crew _working_ there.”

Trevor looked like he wanted argue, a strange expression pinching his face before he deflated, running his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, okay. You’re the boss in this situation, Ryan.” He says with a sigh, “We’ll defer to you for this one.”

Ryan smiles, something small and genuine, “I appreciate it.” He says. “I’ll be careful, no harm will come to the crew for this, if anything, it’ll give us a better insight into the area, so we can figure out who’s trying to take over.”

Geoff stands up from the table, “We trust you, even if Trevor’s acting like _that_ ,” he says, a bit pointedly, elbowing Trevor as he passes him. “Get me a list by tomorrow so I know where to start with all of this. Supplies, equipment you need, things like that.”

“Yes sir,” Ryan says as he stands, saluting the two of them, “Let me know when you get the place. I want to see it before everything’s moved in.” He tries not to show his excitement at the aspect of _running_ a _bakery_ again. Though he’s been with the crew for years, at this point, there’s some things that he’s still wary to share with them, like his past business failures.

==

It takes about two weeks to get everything set up after the initial acquisition of the shop, Ryan starts the application process and chooses several college students, interviews them all in the warm ambient light of the office in the back of the shop, charmed more and more by the area and the people in it.

“You sure it’s a good idea to hire a bunch of college students?” Trevor asks skeptically when Ryan brings the list of his employees to the final meeting before the grand opening.

“They’re under protection,” Ryan says defensively. “Besides, the shop is on neutral territory and anyone who tries to start something there is doomed to be outcast by whatever higher power there is over the crews in this area.” He’s matter of fact in a way that just makes Trevor sigh and shake his head.

_“_ Alright,” he says finally, taking the list, “I’ll file this away somewhere, so no one gets their hands on it.” He’s got a pinched look on his face, but he doesn’t say anything else.

==

_Vol-au-Bon_ opens less than a week later on a Monday morning—Ryan’s pulling chairs down from the tables when there’s a flurry of noise in the kitchen, a loud and excited voice calling out a greeting.

Her name’s Laura and she reminds him of his college days—he’d worked at an off-campus coffee shop, always cheerful during morning shifts no matter the amount of sleep he’d gotten the night before, eager to prove that he was _good_ at his job, no matter the significance of it.

“Hey boss,” She says cheerfully, immediately striding across the room to help Ryan with the chairs. “Ready to face the crowds?”

There’s no one lined up waiting to come in, and besides the ads they’d put in the paper and on various social media accounts, there was no way to know if anyone would actually _come_ to the bakery, but, he admired her spirit and attitude and plastered on a grin. “Let’s do this.”

==

Over the course of the next several weeks, Ryan makes Laura the assistant manager, shows her how to do the prep at night and in the morning, and within a few days, he feels confident enough to leave her in charge—because while he _does_ enjoy the bakery, he is _also_ the Vagabond; and when Geoff calls for him, he goes.

(Though Geoff’s position is really only as a figurehead now, not that the LSPD knows.)

And, it really should be exhausting, running a bakery while he moonlights with the Fakes—but there is an upside to all of this; the intel he gathers from neutral agents coming to pick up coffee and donuts each day helps them weed out the trouble, run out the problematic gangs trying to take over.

It’s not until one day, when he walks into the bakery after taking the deposit to the bank (slightly legitimate in a sense, he’s just depositing money into the Fake’s savings account, because Geoff had made it clear that they’d deal with the nuances like utilities and building upkeep—Ryan chooses to pay his employees from his own wealth of savings), that he notices several people from various other crews gathered around tables, whispering quietly amongst themselves.

It’s…strange, to say the least and he takes over at the counter just to keep an eye on them, because if anything were to go down, he wouldn’t want his employees to get hurt.

==

“There’s a new crew moving in,” Geoff says, almost tiredly, “But Burns trusts them, at least, he somewhat does—there’s one guy, Kovic, I’ve heard of him before and he seems pretty low key.”

Everyone’s sitting around in the living area, an impromptu meeting called when one of the support crew had brought intel to Geoff.

“So, should we be worried about them?” Jack asks, a slight frown on her lips.

Geoff shrugs, “For now, we just observe. If they try to step out of line, we’ll go from there.”

==

Ryan’s working the front counter sometime a few days later, the noon rush just dissipated, only a few tables in the bakery occupied—he’s taken to working out here these days, willing to keep an eye on everything, especially since the bakery had become sort of a neutral meeting ground for various other crews to hold meetings.

He’s glad, in a sense, but still wary, because he knows how to spot a weapon from a mile away and he can tell that everyone has at least one gun on them, can point out who is who and from what crew—though thankfully, none of them seem to realize that he’s actually the Vagabond.

The door opens, the small bell that _Jeremy_ had insisted on installing alerting him of a new customer—and he takes a moment to steel himself, because he’s running on about two hours of sleep and a set of achy ribs from a tangle with the cops—and promptly freezes the second he looks up to greet them.

The guy’s _gorgeous_ , is his first, very immature thought; he’s tall and has a smile (though tired) that makes something in Ryan’s stomach flutter.

“Hi,” He finally manages to say, “Welcome to Vol-au-bon,” and now is where he curses Trevor for suggesting the name, a clever play on a French dessert (“It’s like Vagabond, but not really,”), because he flubs his way through it still, cheeks flushing, “Can I get you anything?”

The guy smiles and leans a little on the counter, “Coffee, black,” he says. “And,” he trails off, looking at the assortment of pastries in the cases, “Surprise me.”

(Later on, he mentions the guy to Meg, _Adam_ , he says with a little sigh, and she sounds fond as she tells him that he’s on speaker and Gavin, Jeremy and Alfredo had heard every word he’d said.

He’s mortified, hangs up immediately and ignores the stream of text messages coming through from Gavin.)

==

It’s not really a _crush_ , he tells himself resolutely as he goes through the motions of preparing for the day—his ribs are better now, but he’s still favoring his right side in a way that has Laura shooing him off to tend to the register after he nearly fumbles another tray of pastries during their lunch rush.

He’s in the middle of rearranging a tray of cookies when Adam enters the bakery and immediately Ryan notices his posture’s stiffer, he’s hunched in on himself; face sort of pale.

“Hi,” Adam says, his voice sounding off, tired, “Can I get a decaf black? And a muffin, you can pick the type.”

Ryan moves to pour the coffee, sealing it with a lid before placing it on the counter, “You sure coffee is what you need?” he asks before he can stop himself. “I mean, if you’re tired, that is. Maybe it’s not…”

Adam’s looking at him oddly, but not in a _bad_ way, but in a type of way that Ryan can’t quite decipher but has him closing his mouth with an audible sound, “Well, I asked for decaf,” he finally says, almost fond. “I appreciate you looking out though,” he gently teases as he pays for his coffee and muffin, dropping the change in the tip jar.

It doesn’t dawn on him until after Adam’s left that he paid with a fifty.

==

Over the next few weeks, Adam shows up at the same time nearly every day, looking more haggard with each visit, face paler than the previous day.

“I don’t normally meddle in my customers’ personal lives but, are you alright?” Ryan asks, passing over a blueberry scone, “You seem tired, well…more tired than the,” he breaks off, waving towards the cluster of college kids at a corner booth, all of them pouring over various text books, “And well, it’s not really my business but I find myself a little worried.”

Adam smiles and looks behind him to make sure there’s no other customer waiting before moving to lean against the counter, “Well, between you and me,” he says, pitching his voice low. “I’m new to the neighborhood and it’s been rough trying to get everything set up. I’m transferring jobs to this area and I live with some roommates who are having a similarly difficult time with the whole transfer thing too…” he sighs, and his smile drops for a moment, “But, you’re not my therapist and I shouldn’t treat you like one.” He plasters on an even faker smile and leans back just as Ryan places his coffee down. “Thank you for the coffee,” he hands over money—another fifty-dollar bill, and when Ryan hands him the change, he just drops it into the tip jar. “Tomorrow? Same time?” he asks, picking up his decaf and taking a long drink of it. “Honestly, this is probably the best part of my day. The coffee, I mean.” He mumbles, though there’s a slight blush on his cheeks.

Ryan licks his lips, feels a fluttering of nerves in his stomach, “Yeah,” he says finally, “It’s a date—I _mean_ , I’ll be here tomorrow, which. Are you allergic to any fruits?”

Adam gives him a strange look, “No?” he says. “Not that I know of, why?”

“I’m going to try something new tomorrow, for the case.” Ryan says vaguely. “You’ll see when you come in.”

A soft snort, “Alright,” he says, amused. “I’ll see you tomorrow Ryan.”

(Ryan _definitely_ doesn’t swoon at the way Adam says his name.)

==

The next day, just as Ryan’s bringing a fresh tray of mini fruit tarts out of the cooler, he hears the backdoor open quietly.

“Ryan.”  It’s Jack, her voice quiet, low enough so it barely carries across the kitchen. “There’s been a situation and Geoff needs you on this.”

Ryan places the tray down onto the counter and turns to Jack, “Can it at least wait til Laura gets here?” he asks, “I’ve done most of the prep and she can finish.”

Jack’s hand is cool on his arm, and she squeezes it gently, “Of course,” she says. “Meet us at the penthouse as soon as you can.”

“Will do,” Ryan says, picking the tray up again, carrying it across the room, Jack following him, “You need anything else?” he asks.

Jack hums, “Those look pretty tasty,” she says, reaching out to snag one off of the tray, coming around him to push the door open for him, “ _Ooh_ , Ryan Haywood, you’ve gone all out with these. What’s the special occasion?” she asks, grinning.

Ryan just scoffs, “What makes you think there has to be a special occasion? I run a _bakery_ Jack,” he says, placing the tray into the center display carefully. “Each day is a different theme and today’s is uh—”

A loud laugh escapes Jack’s mouth, cutting him off, “Ryan _please_ , even I know that’s a lie. You’ve had this place for a while now, there’s no theme each day, you’re _showing off_.”

“Why would I need to show off?”

Jack leans against the counter, finishing of the tart, “Oh, I don’t know,” she says with a grin, “Might have something to do with this _guy_ you told Meg about.”

Ryan feels his face heat up, “Don’t you dare,” he begins. “Jack Pattillo if you keep speaking I’m going to—”

“Good morning Ryan!”

“Hey Laura,” he says, turning around just as she comes through the kitchen door out to the front, “Something’s come up and I’ve got to take the day off.” He bites his lip, “I’m really sorry it’s such short notice—”

Laura waves him off, “I’ll call in one of the girls early. We’ve got this Ryan, don’t worry,” She says with a bright grin, “Although, you said you’d be here when Adam comes in a noon,” she frowns a little, “You’re not going to be back by then, are you?”

He hears Jack snicker behind him, “I’m not,” he says, nudging Jack back towards the kitchen. “And you were just leaving. I’ll meet you guys there in twenty minutes.”

Once Jack’s gone, he moves over to the counter and grabs a pad of paper from the register, “When you see him, can you give him this?” he asks, scribbling across the paper. “I don’t…want him to think I’m ditching him? Even if it’s not a date and I’m looking way too much into it, I just. I want him to know that I had every intention to _be_ here.”

“Sure thing boss,” Laura says softly, fondly. “I’ll make sure he knows.” She takes the note from him and shoos him towards the kitchen, “Now go, don’t leave Jack waiting, yeah?” she says with a mysterious sort of smile.

(Honestly at this point, he’d be more surprised to find out that she _didn’t_ know he was with the Fakes.)

==

Ryan comes limping into the bakery several days later, smiling at Laura who’s just finished cashing out a group of tired college kids, “Hey boss,” she calls out, waving him over to the counter.

“I see the bakery’s still in one piece,” He says as a greeting and Laura laughs loudly, “I’m here to collect the deposit, I’ll take it to the bank and come back to close up, yeah?”

Laura waves him off, “Already took the deposit, you should head home and rest,” she says, holding out a piece of paper, “Also, Adam came by, said he’d be out of town for a few days but to give you this in return.”

Ryan takes it and unfolds it, inside, in a messy sort of scrawl is a note:

_Hope everything went well. Here’s my number, text me whenever.  
-Adam_

“Right,” he says eventually, “I’ll go home then, rest up. I’ll be back in the morning to open and do the prep,” he offers a tired smile her way. “Thank you so much for covering for me.”

Laura waves him off, “Boss, you treat us really good here, _amazingly_ even. We’re all too happy to cover for you when you need us to.”

Ryan feels a rush of relief and gratefulness for her, for his employees who’ve become something close to a family to him, “Take tomorrow off,” he says as he heads for the door.

==

Somehow he’s nervous, sitting on his couch staring at the empty text on his phone, he’s not sure what to say, how to even _start_ it really.

In the end, he settles for a simple _hey this is Ryan_.

**_Hey. I take it things went okay?_ **

_Yeah, sorry I missed the other day. I hope you’re not too disappointed._

**_No, I understand how things can be sometimes._ **

_That’s good._

_Hey, Adam. Look, forgive me if I’m reading this wrong but._

_…_

_Would you like to go get lunch sometime?_

_I mean, you come by the shop around lunch time anyway. I could sneak out. We could get food._

_If you want to._

_If not I understand._

It takes a while after that and Ryan’s almost talked himself into throwing his phone out and changing his identity and moving to a different city before the reply comes through.

**_Sorry. Work. But yeah. Shit. I’d definitely love to get lunch with you sometime._ **

**_Maybe even dinner? If you want?_ **

_Lunch on me and dinner on you?_

**_Sounds like a plan to me._ **

_:) It’s a date then._


End file.
